Puzzle Pieces
by SoDunne
Summary: /They always end up where it all began. The Chasm. And Eric is still the same guarded man he always was, but she's come to accept it./ (9/? in the 'Chasm' universe)


**_AN:_** **So, I've decided to stick this in here. It was sitting in my drafts, wasting away. It's a flashback to before the attack on Abnegation, putting it before _Go_. **

**Tris and Eric have their thing already. Tris is a full-fledged member, a leader in training. At this point, she's starting to understand him a little more and he's accepted that he has her.**

 **Think, between 'Out in the Open' and 'The Bar'. It's the first time I've jumped backward instead of forward, but I don't think it'll happen often.** **Since we're on the topic, the series in chronological order goes:** ** _Chasm, Stress, Talking, Reasoning, Kisses, Out in the Open, (_ This installment _) Puzzle Pieces, The Bar,_** **and then** ** _, Go._**

 ***Insert generic disclaimer, right, in this very spot, here***

* * *

There's not much to say between them. Between the wandering hands and lingering kisses - they know. _Everyone_ knows. They've become inseparable in less than a month, really. It should scare her how close she's gotten to him, but she feels like he's a part of her now. An integral piece in the puzzle that makes up her life in Dauntless, she can't replace him. She can't get rid of him. She doesn't want to.

She barely talks to her friends - he's unsure if he's ever really had friends. It doesn't bother her though because it wasn't her choice - the idea that her friends don't like him, simply because his teaching methods are questionable at the worst. She refuses to compromise with Christina and Will, and it took her a long while to be okay with the fact that they chose to hate Eric more than they love her.

She doesn't care.

She can tell herself not to. She can just _feel_.

And she supposes that that's the best part of it all. How easy it is to just be with him. He hasn't said it yet but she knows he's not used to someone just giving them self to him emotionally and mentally. She knows that he's confused about it. They have secrets - everyone does but there are no false pretenses - not on her end - the sexual attraction isn't overrunning the connection between them. And that's fine. She wants to be a friend to him before anything else. She wants that for him. He's lost too much for her to hold any grudges towards him. And if no one else can gravitate toward him - the enigma he is - she can. She thinks she understands him a little. Most would run from him - it sounds crazy that she's interested in someone so unequivocally unpredictable, but that's what she likes about him and their relationship. He chooses to open up to her sometimes - and those moments feels special. The quiet murmurings late at night when he doesn't think she's awake, the gentle caresses let her know that the relationship isn't one-sided.

He's a complex human being. He's older, wiser, a little bit more emotional than most give him credit for, dangerously intelligent, his dark humor. From the way he structures his sentences to just the simple way he knows what to say at the right time, she knows he monitors himself more than the average guy she's come in contact with - she can only compare him to the Dauntless men she's had conversations with. And in those comparisons, she's discovered more Erudite in him than she'd have expected. He's aware of the way he comes across, a defense mechanism- his abrasive nature was _learned_ , it's not innate. She finds herself wondering if he's an Erudite who's taught himself to be a Dauntless. Or if he's _both_.

He doesn't oversee her training - by some strange rule Max has made up - but they don't complain. They just steal more moments. On this night, it feels different. Like he's got way too much on his mind, a kind of heavy feeling hangs over them - the type of heaviness that squeezes the life out of something. The proverbial cloud has been following him around as the days to next month dwindle down. She opens her mouth to ask him to just spit it out.

They wander around the compound for hours, her hand in his, pensive reserve lacing his expression. He's unsure of something but she's unsure of herself so she doesn't ask. He sucks his lip-ring into his mouth, nibbling on the corner of his lip. He looks like he'll finally say something and tell her what's eating him up inside but he doesn't.

She stops walking, yanking his arm as she plants her feet in the floor. He stumbles, his free arm flails and she fights a snicker. He raises his pierced brow at her, the skin around the two dermal piercings wrinkles. With a sigh and amused smirk, he asks, "What?"

"I don't know," she admits, unable to find the right way to tell him to stop ruminating on whatever is running about in his head. "You're just so quiet." Contrary to popular belief, he's the talker between the two of them. He normally spouts off random facts with little, subtle inflections of amusement in his tone, or he talks about his day and his frustration with the way Dauntless leaders handle certain things. "I just want you to talk to me." When he doesn't respond immediately, she squeezes his hand, "Eric..."

"Hmm." He nods, "How was your day?"

Sighing, she concedes, "Fine." He smirks, rolling his eyes at her as he wraps his arm around her waist. She giggles despite herself as he snuggles her to his chest. "Stop, I'm mad at you."

A fake gasp and an eye roll later, he nudges her away, "What did I do?" He chuckles.

"You haven't said much since we've started walking. And it's officially been -" she checks the multipurpose watch he wears on his wrist, checking the time. "over two hours." Tris crosses her arms over her chest, staring at him as he leans against the wall, "So what's up?"

A mischievous glint lights up in his grey eyes, "If I tell you, will you sit on it?" He quips, giving her a shit-eating grin, his eyebrows raised expectantly. Her expression deadpans when she realizes he's just told a joke, implying something that would make her father choke on air and leave her mother scandalized, before she swats him on the chest. He snorts, grabbing her her wrists before she can cover her reddened face. Still laughing, he leaves light kisses on the inside of each wrist. "I'm just teasing you, Tris."

She pouts, and he lets out a quick, bark of a laugh, his head hanging down because he can't control his laughter. Tris bites her lip to keep herself from laughing. He swipes his thumb over her lip, releasing it from her teeth. He presses his lips on hers, a simple peck that forces a smile from her. He smiles triumphantly.

"You're so gross."

"One of my best qualities." He retorts, chuckling at the look of feigned annoyance on her face.

They continue to walk, ending up on the chasm bridge. It's late, on a Wednesday night, not many people are anywhere near the chasm when they could be drinking the stress of their day away. So they always end up there, above the big waterfall where they'll be alone.

He sits at the edge, his feet dangle under the protective railing. He's pulling her down with him before she can protest sitting so close to the edge. But it's that side or the bare side. She settles in his lap, straddling him with innocent intentions - she doesn't have to courage to stare into the chasm when she's sober. He buries his face in her neck, and she runs her fingers through his hair, messing up his is gelled hairdo, but he doesn't mind.

He's tempted to tell her that he wouldn't know what to do without her. She's ruined his idea that he's best when he's alone. But he settles for leaving a gentle kiss on her neck. Even though she's in his lap, she's cradling him close.

The crashing of the water drowns out every thing but him and her. The beating of her heart may be loudest.

"Do you ever wonder what would have happened if you didn't find me that night after-" Tris's question slowly, quietly fades away, but he knows what she wanted to ask.

"Only when I'm feeling particularly masochistic." Eric answers sarcastically, yet truthfully. He knows what she's asking. He doesn't tell her that it always crosses his mind that she'd have fallen, or worse, _jumped_. He doesn't tell her that it scares him when he gets a call in the middle of the night, telling him to come and pick her up because she's too drunk to make it home on her own and no one can take the time to bring her up to meet him - he can't admit that he knows she goes back to that very spot, and stands at the edge, contemplating what it would be like to throw herself off the side. She still hates Al, and what he did, but she and Eric both know that sometimes, she thinks of joining him. "I don't usually enjoy that kind of self-inflicted pain." He leans back on his hands, fingers curling into the metal of the bridge.

She nods slowly, accepting his answer for what it is - vague. "Where should I get my leadership tattoo?" She asks him, changing the subject. "My neck? Like you?"

He shrugs, knowing that the question makes him tense no matter how much he doesn't want it to. He feels like he can't protect her from things out of his control. And it terrifies and annoys him all at the same time. "Where ever you want." He responds gruffly.

Tris accepts his tone with a sad smile - she wants him to be happy for her. She wants him to tell her what he's so afraid of. But she knows he will when he's ready, so she just nods.

They sit in silence, her lithe fingers tucked in between the front of his hips and his leather belt. In her mind, she's keeping her fingers warm, while making sure he doesn't pull away. It's as innocent as smiling at him, she thinks. Eric rolls his eyes at her, throwing his head back dramatically feigning pained annoyance.

She sticks her tongue out at him. They are playful, and it still shocks her sometimes. She could never joke around with Four because he hadn't let her get that close. She internally scolds herself for comparing them again.

"Hey." Eric calls her attention.

"What?" She smiles, blushing already.

He pretends to think about what he wants to tell her, despite the fact that they both know what he's going to say. "You're beautiful."

She still turns bright red. They both hope she never gets used to his compliments.

Sitting back up again, he kisses her soundly on the mouth. Her eyes flutter shut and her fingers curl into the fabric of his black t-shirt. He chuckles and holds his hands on her hips, running his tongue along her bottom lip. She's accepted that his kisses will slowly start to drive her out of her mind. He smiles as he gently bites her bottom lip before she opens her mouth wider, halfheartedly fighting, battling his tongue with hers - happy to accept defeat. She sucks softly, smiling when he groans.

He pulls away slowly, lingering " _Tease_." He breathes out, their foreheads settling together. He grabs her face, kissing all over her cheeks playfully, adding a dramatized mwah with each peck along her skin.

Pushing him away, she laughs, "You love it." Tris sighs, wrapping her arms around him. Her fingers play in his hair, scratching his scalp softly.

One of his arms encases her waist and he uses his free hand to run his fingers through her long hair. Every part of them feels like it's touching. His rough edges meet her soft curves - leaving them perfectly merged together. They sit in silence, listening to the pouring and crashing of the water around them. Mist from the down pour leaves a slight sheen over her, but he keeps her warm.

He's so gentle. And she's glad that only she knows that he can be that way. It makes her feel special and fuzzy on the inside. Sometimes, she regrets that he's not the man she can claim as her first relationship. But then, she tells herself that she can appreciate him for he who he is more now because she's been with someone else. She knows what love feels like without saying it yet. It's not forced - it doesn't have to be. They're patient with each other, both of them understand that there are things about the other that they don't want to divulge _yet_. Most would say that those things should be said - that they're lying to the other by not coming clean about everything. But no, she doesn't think that it would be fair of her to ask him to tell her every dark thing about himself that he's not proud of. And she has things about herself that she can't tell him yet - like being a Divergent.

When they're alone, she wants to be exactly that, just the two of them - with nothing else. Just two people who are blank pages, building together.

Puzzle pieces that fit together, filling in the rest of the picture one day at a time. Because if they have nothing - no family to run to, or accepting friends - they have each other.


End file.
